Page 469 - And for his bride, for me, to Sparta came. 30 But Hera, wroth that she should not prevail, Turned into air Alexander's joy of me ; Gave him not me, but fashioned like to me A breathing phantom, out of cloudland wrought, For Priam's princely son : he deemed me his, Who was not, a vain phantasy. Withal Zeus' counsels to these evils added more ; For war he brought upon the Hellenes' land And hapless Phrygians, to disburden so Earth-mother of her straitened throngs of men, 40 And to make Hellas

Page 113 - Twas I first called thee father, thou me child. 1220 'Twas I first throned my body on thy knees, And gave thee sweet caresses and received. And this thy word was : ' Ah, my little maid, Blest shall I see thee in a husband's halls Living and blooming worthily of me...

Page 141 - To Artemis the Queen, blest Goddess, treading 1480 A measure, fane and altar compass ye. I wash the curse out with the hallowed shedding Of blood, if this must be. Mother, for thee my fount of pity streameth Now — for I may not at the altar weep. 1490 Sing, maidens, Artemis, whose temple gleameth Toward Chalcis, o'er the deep, From where, in Aulis' straitened havens, shaken In fury, spears are at my name uptossed.

Page 13 - To Artemis who dwelleth in this land ; So should we voyage, and so Phrygia smite ; But if we slew her not, it should not be. I, when I heard this, bade Talthybius Dismiss the host with proclamation loud, Since I would never brook to slay my child. Whereat my brother, pleading manifold pleas, To the horror thrust me. In a tablet's folds I -wrote, and bade therein my wife to send Our daughter, as to be Achilles' bride, 100 Extolled therein the hero's high repute, <rvfj,TT\eiv r 'A^otot?

Page 95 - I blush to thrust on thee my piteous tale. My pain is mine; mine anguish wrings not thee. Yet is it nobly done, when from his height The good man stoops to help the stricken ones. Pity me, for in piteous case am I...

Page 47 - And I exhort thee, neither slay thy child, Nor choose my good for thine. Unjust it were That thou shouldst groan, and all my cup be sweet, That thy seed die, and mine behold the light. For, what would I ? Can I not find a bride Peerless elsewhere, if I for marriage yearn ? How, should I lose — whom least I ought to lose — A brother, win a Helen, bad for good ? Mad was 1 and raw-witted, till I viewed Things near, and saw what slaying children means.